


Curiosity (Tried to) Kill the Cat

by bltbackwards



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alex needs to buy a better vacuum cleaner, Alternate Universe, F/F, Fluff, Kara is all about the snuggles, Light Fix it Fic, Literally And Figuratively, Maggie misses her opposable thumbs, Please stop giving us struggles CW, bit of a crack fic, cat transformation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-03-05 20:37:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18836326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bltbackwards/pseuds/bltbackwards
Summary: Maggie Sawyer’s plan after her break up with Alex was simple—Step 1: Move into a house at the opposite end of National City. Step 2: Transfer police precincts. Step 3: ??? Step 4: Profit.—Maggie never thought she'd see Alex again. Nor did she think she'd ever be transformed into a cat. Well, you know what they say about best laid plans.OR The one where Maggie gets turned into a cat.





	1. A Cat-astrophe to the Nth Degree

**Author's Note:**

> Set after season 3, but before the events of season 4. Because I’m still not over Sanvers, ok? Let me cope by writing a crack fic that’s treated as (semi) serious literature.

Maggie Sawyer loved cats. She appreciated their no-nonsense attitude and general sense of independence. Their colorful personalities and their sometimes ridiculous antics made them great companions. She’d considered adopting a cat on many occasions. She even went so far as to visit a shelter and ventured into the dangerous territory of “just looking.” After all, what self-respecting lesbian doesn’t own a cat? But in the end, she’d been one of the very few people who had entered a room full of adorable fluffs and didn’t leave with one of her own. All because she was a self-respecting lesbian that worked long hours and tended to disappear days at a time on some work-related mission. It simply wouldn’t be fair to the cat.  
  
So yes, Maggie Sawyer adored cats. Hell, she wouldn’t deny if someone described her as a cat person. But Maggie Sawyer never thought she would ever be a _literal_ cat person. And not in that Mean Girls slap on some ears for Halloween in a “Duh, I’m a ~~mouse~~ cat” sort of way, but a _literal_ cat. A four-legged furry feline with claws and a tail. If people made fun of her for her short stature then, it was nothing to being ten inches off the ground now.  
  
Maggie looked down at her front paws and blinked with her probably comically large and adorable eyes. She’d been called cute a few times, but that was when she was a human and cute was the way her dimples showed themselves after laughing at a corny joke, not cute in a “It’s so fluffy I wanna die” sort of way. Thinking of herself as a lovable feline was way too far afield to wrap her mind around. She needed to take a step back and think.  
  
One minute she was chasing her perp down the streets of National City and the next minute she was hit by some sort of smoke grenade. By the time the smoke cleared, she was looking down at a set of black, furry paws.  
  
And so, Maggie Sawyer had to come to terms with the fact that she had been turned into a cat.  
  
And not even some sort of super cat that could fly, speak, or shoot laser beams out of its eyes. Upon inspection of her new feline form in a nearby window, she noticed she didn’t even have any unique markings that would make it worth it. She’d been turned into a cat and didn’t even get a t-shirt to show for it.  
  
So yes. Maggie Sawyer was a cat. A plain, black cat with no opposable thumbs and no way to get help.  
  
Maggie hung her head and expressed her emotions the only way she could at the moment. By using the most creative word in the English language. One that could convey joy, sadness, anger, confusion, surprise, and betrayal all in one. “Fuck.”  
  
Or rather, that’s what she wanted to say. Instead Maggie the Cat meowed softly before bounding away in no particular direction and with no particular plan but to find a way to become human again. Somehow.

* * *

 

Maggie had always prided herself on her sense of direction. It had only taken her a couple of weeks to learn the ins and outs of National City, committing all the side streets and back alleys to her mental map. It was a necessary skill to have as a detective, being able to plot the quickest way to the scene or intercept a perp’s escape route, but the streets were much more foreign from the viewpoint of an average human’s shin rather than her usual, towering five foot, three (and a quarter!) inch vantage point.  
  
Maggie’s fur felt dusty, as if all of the city’s pollution and exhaust clung to every hair on her fluffy body. All four of her legs ached, muscles still adapting to their new form of locomotion. Then there was her paws, raw and chapped by the rough concrete. She didn’t dare lift them to check the pads of her feet, confident the lack of bloody paw prints was signal enough that she was doing just fine. The first time she checked the bottom of her paws, the sight of her own little adorable toe beans knocked her down quite a few pegs in the “I’m-mentally-okay-with-the-fact-some-mysterious-alien-tech-turned-me-into-a-cat” scale.  
  
At first, she wandered around the streets aimlessly, unsure of what to do with her cat-self. She had managed to find her way back to the police precinct, sure that her fellow detectives were looking for her after she didn’t report back. But before she could tackle the problem of telling her peers that the cat they were looking at was in fact Detective Sawyer, she had to get through the front door. And God, who knew getting through a door would be so difficult?  
  
Void of her key card, or badge, or gun, or sexy leather jacket—basically everything that denoted her as a detective, Maggie had to wait for someone to walk through the precinct doors and follow close on their heels, or more accurately, in between their legs, weaving in and out doing the best not to trip them, but doing exactly that. She was promptly shooed out of the building by the front desk clerk on the first two occasions. Changing tactics, she darted inside, scrambling under desks and scurrying around the bull pen before hiding herself in a waste paper basket. A few detectives approached her, bent down to her eye level making (frankly embarrassing) high pitched coos.  
  
Maggie peaked her head out of the bin, a piece of paper still stuck on her head like a hat. A camera shutter went off and she flicked her ears back in annoyance. Detective Poole made a hesitant step forward, hand outstretched. Maggie mewled angrily, trying to convey to a room full of her peers that she was Detective Maggie Sawyer. Not some adorable, scared, street cat to be fawned over and made memes of. She was so preoccupied by those in front of her, that she didn’t notice when Detective Harris ambushed her from behind and grabbed her out of the bin.  
  
The audacity of that man!  
  
Maggie howled and spun out of his grasp. An outstretched, unsheathed paw connected satisfyingly across that pretty boy’s face. She’s pretty sure there was a double back flip involved in her desperate attempt to get away. After landing on her feet (as any self-respecting cat would), Maggie arched her back and gave another hiss in Detective Harris’ direction. _Screw you, Tom._ Detective Harris pulled a hand away from his face, showing three bright red lines. _Serves you right._ Maggie flicked her tail and placed her chin high in the air, satisfied with her handiwork. _Never touch a women without her consent._  
  
The rest of the group eyed her warily and Maggie realized she wasn’t going to get anywhere with these detectives.  
  
With her head (and tail) held high, Maggie marched herself towards the front door. She wasn’t going to deny that there was a certain feeling of satisfaction as the sea of detectives parted for her. She sat down in front of the door, looked pointedly out into the street, and then back to the inquisitive group of detectives. None of them moved. Maggie huffed. _Can someone open this damn door already?_ she growled. As if snapped out of a trance, the group of detectives all moved at once, tripping over themselves before Detective Poole managed to walk from the bull pen to the door and open it with ease.  
  
God, Maggie missed her opposable thumbs.

* * *

 

The hope of this transformation wearing off any time soon was quickly dwindling. It had taken her hours to find the police precinct, which turned out to be a massive waste of time, and now she had no other ideas. Going to her apartment would be impossible. She didn’t have her keys, let alone any way to use them. What Maggie really wanted was a stiff drink, to curl up in her bed, and pretend this never happened. Hopefully, she’d wake up and find that this whole cat thing was a terrible dream caused by one too many sleepless nights and one too many cups of coffee.  
  
She shortly entertained the idea of going to a bar, but she’s certain any human bar would quickly kick her out and probably with less grace than the precinct did. Plus, alcohol is deadly to cats… Although, Maggie wasn’t certain how far the cat physiology extended. Sure she looked like a cat and talked like a cat, but did she have to eat like a cat? A thought crossed her mind to go to the alien bar. M’gann had left for Mars, but maybe there were other telepathic aliens that would help her out. But that was a large maybe, and given her vulnerable state, she’s not sure she was willing to take that chance. Not to mention she hadn’t been back to the alien bar since Alex.  
  
_Alex_ …  
  
Maggie sighed and flicked her tail.  
  
It normally wasn’t a big deal running into her ex’s. If it was anyone else, she’d continue to go to the bar. Alex had stolen her heart and the family she thought she was building in National City, Maggie wasn’t going to let Alex steal her favorite bar too. But that was easier said than done. Shortly after the breakup, it had hurt just to go down the same street as their old apartment, the alien bar, or any of the places they used to frequent. Every time Supergirl was in the sky or in the news, it was a painful reminder of everything Maggie had lost. Everything she lost because she hadn’t been enough, hadn’t been good enough for Alex. And it broke her heart all over again. So she moved as far away as possible and switched police precincts to minimize any contact with Alex or memories of her. But it wasn’t enough.  
  
The whole city reminded her of Alex and she had to get away. To clear her head. To start to heal. Even asking Alex for her passport was a challenge. She had written that text no less than a hundred times and left it unsent in her drafts for no less than a week before figuratively manning up and sending it. So Maggie lumped as much of her vacation and sick days together as possible and left National City for a month and a half.  
  
And of course, it was just her luck that she returned to National City when the fucking _apocalypse_ was happing and even the Earth under her feet wasn’t safe from Reign. But it was good in a way, if one didn’t think of the casualties, massive property damage, and emotional trauma the city sustained. Because Maggie wasn’t just knee deep in work, but drowning in it. The chaos left little down time for all members of the NCPD and the relentless stream of work helped Maggie to get her mind off of yet another one of her failed relationships.  
  
A bus stopped, its air brakes hissing. Maggie’s ears twitched, the loud noise startling her back to the present. She wasn’t that heartbroken woman anymore. She’d loved and lost and supposedly was better for it. And sure, it didn’t _feel_ better but she was forced to learn to treasure her self-worth ever since she was kicked out at 14, and she could learn to treasure it again a decade later. Alex existed only in her past now and Maggie had to live with that.  
  
…And Maggie also now had to live with the fact that she was a cat. A very hungry, tired cat.  
  
It was growing dark and Maggie entertained the thought of spending the night out on the streets and renewing her search for a cure tomorrow. She could curl up in a side alley—maybe one connected to a fancy Italian restaurant. Find a nice, cardboard box to spend the night and hope the chef takes pity on her ala Lady and the Tramp. That is, if Lady and Tramp were both cats. And if the Tramp was alone. And if it wasn’t an animated movie, but some dystopian documentary of some sad, single, lesbian cat.  
  
Maggie sat down with a despondent mewl. God, she hated how cute her voice was. She was angry and frustrated and wanted to reflect that properly. Maggie picked up her paw and stomped it down on the pavement. It barely made a sound. She supposed that’s the closest she’ll get to punching a wall as a feline.  
  
Maggie could stay on this street corner, ignored by the endless stream of people, and simply hope for things to be better. She could hope for a warm bed, a nice dinner, some sort of way out of this mess, but Maggie learned early in life that hoping for things did not make them reality. She had to do something about this. Something actionable. Something tangible. But what that something was, she had no clue. She needed help. And whether she wanted to openly admit it or not, Alex was the only one who could help her. After all, Alex had access to a super-secret lab full of super-secret alien tech, one of which could probably reverse this transformation. Probably.  
  
Hopefully.  
  
Maybe.  
  
Well, it was worth a shot.  
  
After all, who doesn’t want their first meeting back with their ex-fiancée to be when they’re a human transformed into a cat, asking for help to turn them back?  
  
Yeah, it was just as normal as grabbing a coffee.

* * *

 

Maggie figured it was well past midnight when she finally found Alex’s street. She had gotten lost multiple times, the street signs too high up to read and the determining landmarks distorted from her vantage point ten inches up from the ground. One good thing from this whole transformation debacle was her enhanced night vision. She had to rescind her previous filed grievance about not gaining superpowers. This increased agility, sight, and smell comparative to her human form could be considered a superpower. Sure, she missed the ability to convey words with the English language and two-leg walking and opposable thumbs. But she had to make do with what she had.  
  
Maggie craned her neck upwards, trying to count the correct building stories up and rooms over. There were a handful of lights still on and she was certain one of them was Alex’s. Now how to get up there?  
  
Her first obstacle was the apartment complex’s keypad-locked front door. In Maggie’s current state, even a normal door would pose an issue. And even if she was able to leap up and hit the correct button, it’s not like Alex would buzz a meowing cat in.  
  
A slight drizzle had begun and Maggie cursed the April showers of National City. She huddled under the awning of the front door in case she was lucky enough to have someone return to their home this late. Only a couple people passed by, to which she trilled hopefully at, but they both walked by with only a precursory glance. She’d have to find another way in.  
  
Maggie circled the block, noting possible routes up drain pipes before seeing a fire escape. Her eyes lit up and probably did that pupil dilation that made cats so charming. Maggie shoved that thought away. The fire escape ladder was locked in a position too far away to simply jump onto from ground level. Spotting a nearby dumpster, Maggie climbed onto the lid, trying to ignore the pungent smell of garbage that assaulted her nose. The metal escape ladder was further than she would’ve liked, but she figured that as a cat she could make the jump. She backed up, allowing herself room for a running start. Her haunches wiggled slightly and her tail twitched, finding that equilibrium needed to make a precision pounce.  
  
Maggie’s paws barely made a sound as they darted across the dumpster lid. She readied herself and made the leap. The lowest rung of the ladder flew closer. She could make this. Her front paws landed awkwardly on the narrow ladder step. The lower half of her body scrambled for purchase in the empty air. She struggled to stay on the step, straining desperately to try and haul herself completely onto the ladder, but the rain made the metal too slippery and Maggie lost her grip. _Stupid fuzzy toe beans._ She twisted in the air, landing awkwardly on her feet.  
  
The drizzle had picked up into a full rain storm. (One could even say it was raining cats and dogs.) Maggie pinned her ears flat to her head, displeased. An errant thought crossed her mind and she smirked (as much as a cat’s facial structure could). It was probably the first time in her life Maggie was displeased at a soaking wet p—  
  
A crack of lightning shot through the sky paired with a peal of thunder, causing Maggie to let out a surprised yowl, arching and jumping straight into the air. She’s pretty sure she performed some sort of backflip-corkscrew maneuver that would be the envy of any ice skating routine. That is, if ice skaters were judged by how well they could do tricks when jump-scared by the horror movie playing in the background of their routine.  
  
Maggie clambered back up onto the dumpster. The sooner she could get inside the better.  
  
She attempted the jump again. And fell, again. And climbed back on the dumpster to try yet again.  
  
Another jump. Another fall.  
  
The fourth time, she landed directly into a puddle, covering herself in mud and oil from the streets. Maggie flickered out her tongue and twisted up her face. Oh God, it got in her mouth! She opened and closed her mouth repeatedly, whiskers and nose quivering in an attempt to ride herself of the taste of dirty street water.  
  
Lighting and thunder split the sky once again. Her fur was soaked and she shivered. She had to get out of this weather.  
  
Maggie dragged herself up onto the dumpster again. She leaned back on her haunches, tail in the air. Her eyes narrowed with determination, focusing with laser precision on the bottom step of the ladder. Her legs moved in a graceful rhythm as she propelled herself forward. Front paws, back paws, front paws, back paws. Maggie leapt through the air, back arched slightly upwards as the entirety of her body extended. She landed so that the step caught behind her front legs, and without wasting the forwards momentum, Maggie managed to get her back left leg onto the step. The other paws soon followed and she perched triumphantly on the fire escape ladder.  
  
Now, to find Alex’s apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Maggie meets Alex, but her struggles aren’t over yet. Too bad Alex doesn’t speak fluent cat.


	2. Duck, Duck, Goose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let’s admit it: All cats are probably, actually, most definitely aliens. (But we love them anyways.)

Alex Danvers took another sip of coffee and yawned. It was one in the morning and she still had a stack of paperwork to get through. She had no clue how J’onn had managed all this paperwork as director of the DEO and still had time for anything else. A voice in her head blamed the constant trips into the field, the rookie training she insisted on doing herself, and the lab work that she was the head researcher on. J’onn had side projects as well and still was an active director. She could do this too.  
  
Right then. Alex straightened her back, the vertebrae protesting with a series of pops from being locked in such a position for hours on end. Back to the paperwork. And maybe if she’s lucky she’ll get a nice five hours of sleep.  
  


* * *

 

After a few heart pounding leaps and near misses, Maggie had reached the correct balcony. She peered through the glass door and crack in the curtain. She could just make out Alex’s back, working on something at her kitchen table.  
  
Maggie shook herself. She tried scratching at the door, but her claws made little sound comparative to the storm outside. Maggie meowed as loud as she could. _C’mon Danvers. Notice me!_ An odd thing to say to your ex, she lamented. Usually one would turn about face the second they saw a glimpse of their ex and run the other way to avoid an awkward encounter. But Maggie was not a usual case. She was a cat in need of someone’s help to turn them back into a human. Maggie sighed, that statement would never get easier to say.  
  
This was hopeless. There was no way that Alex would hear her over the rain.  
  
Maggie figured she could wait and try to gain Alex’s attention when she eventually went to bed, but knowing Alex, that time could be anywhere from one hour to never. Maggie looked around at Alex’s balcony for something to help her. It was fairly sparse, but a bonsai plant in the corner caught her eye. It was placed on a pedestal and looked half dead. _Poor thing. It should’ve been kept inside and definitely not be subject to this much water._ She shook her head.  
  
_Sorry little guy_. Maggie waited for a roll of thunder to pass before she leapt up and threw her entire body at the pedestal holding the bonsai. The plant crashed to the floor, its ceramic pot shattering on the ground. Maggie watched as Alex startled to attention, grabbing her gun before cautiously making her way to the balcony.  
  
“Kara?” called out Alex, her gun pointed towards the floor, ready to be engaged at a moment’s notice. Alex pushed aside the curtain and looked around, not seeing anything before moving her gaze downward.  
  
Maggie was sat amongst the shattered pieces of the bonsai’s pot, gazing expectantly up at Alex. The DEO agent blinked, confusion evident on her face. Maggie simply chirped up at her. _Hey, Danvers._  
  
When Maggie first started the trek to Alex’s house she knew that it would be an odd reunion. She was a cat, who used to be a human, who was Alex’s ex-fiancée. If that wasn’t weird enough, she was a cat that looked like she’d gone through hell—fur matted with a whole day’s worth of city dirt, rain, and mud.  
  
And there was Alex. Not much had changed. It was the same face and figure Maggie fell in love with years ago. The trained alertness, the comfort and confidence in which she held a gun were the same. Those hard lines that made bad guys cower were still there, honed by yet another year of DEO work. She had a new haircut but was still wearing that same old dorky t-shirt Kara had gotten her with the words ‘I wear this shirt periodically’ and the table of elements printed on the front. And there were still those same soft features when Alex seamlessly transitioned from Secret Agent Alex to just Alex.  
  
It had been a year since the breakup. Since they left each other’s lives. Maggie had had time to move on, date a few other women, and close the chapter of her life with Alex in it.  
  
Maggie still cared for Alex, yes. She had loved Alex, but she couldn’t keep holding a torch for the women who chose a hypothetical child over her. And Maggie understood, encouraged it even. Alex deserved to be happy. To be with someone who wanted kids. Maggie still thought Alex was an amazing woman and that she’d be a great mother. But Maggie also accepted it wouldn’t be with her.  
  
What was that saying? If you love someone set them free? But what did that quote say about returning to them because you’re a human transformed into a cat with no one else to turn to? Yeah, not so wise now, you silly quote.  
  
After assessing there was no threat, Alex placed her gun safely aside and crouched down to Maggie’s eye level. “How’d you get up here?”  
  
Maggie simply meowed again and pawed at the door. _It’s a long story._  
  
Alex frowned at the bedraggled state of the cat in front of her. It was soaked to the bone and despite its all-black fur, she could see the dirt and mud clinging to its paws and underbelly.  
  
Maggie sat on her haunches and peered up at Alex, trying her best to channel her inner Puss in Boots despite the fact she just wanted to yell: ‘It’s really fucking cold out here, please let me in.’  
  
Alex smiled and stood up to open the door. The moment Maggie stepped foot into Alex’s apartment, she resisted the urge to shake off the water from her fur and dart around on the carpet until she was dry. She probably shouldn’t track mud all over the apartment of the one who she needs help from.  
  
Alex looked down at the cat that somehow made its way onto her fourth-floor balcony, unsure of how to proceed. She noticed the cat shiver and Alex frowned. “Right, you look like you could use a bath.”  
  
Maggie pushed her ears back in disdain. Whatever cat part existed in her brain did not like the sound of more water. But her skin itched with the dirt of the city and Maggie knew she’d feel better for it. Alex started towards the bathroom and Maggie followed with a tentative mewl, acutely aware of the muddy paw prints she was leaving on the floor.  
  
“Wait here, I’ll get you a towel,” said Alex fully expecting the cat to do whatever it pleased. Instead the cat immediately stopped and sat down with a small meow as if to say ‘Okay.’ Alex shook it off as coincidence. She grabbed an old towel from the bathroom and returned to find the cat rooted in place. “So well behaved,” commented Alex. She crouched down and laid out the towel, to which the cat gingerly stepped on and kicked its paws across, as if wiping their feet on a doormat, before rolling on it a couple of times in an attempt to dry off the rest of their fur. Alex narrowed her eyes in suspicion, “You’re not an alien are you, Goose?”  
  
Maggie cocked her head to the side at the odd nickname. Alex never was good at naming pets. Calling a cat Goose was like naming a dog Fish. At least she didn’t call her Gertrude. Alex picked up the dirty towel and walked to the bathroom. At the sound of a bath being drawn, Maggie followed.  
  
The smell of Alex’s shampoo flooded her nose, and she couldn’t help as her mind wandered back to the times when she’d wake up with her (human) nose buried in Alex’s hair. And the lazy morning smile Alex would give her. And the feeling of their rings clanking together as Alex took Maggie’s hand in hers. And—  
  
“In you go,” said present-day Alex, gesturing to the warm, soapy water. “Please don’t kill me for this, okay?” she begged, tentatively reaching down to pick Maggie up. And perhaps it was that adorable frown of consternation on Alex’s face, or the fact that Alex’s shampoo was all she could smell, or perhaps it was because she was just too exhausted to fight. But she allowed herself to be picked up and placed in the bath with only a minimal meow.  
  
The warm water made Maggie realize just how tired she was. From being transformed into a cat, to roaming around the city, to being chased out of the precinct, to jumping balconies in a rainstorm, Maggie had had quite the day. She remained calm as Alex ran her fingers through Maggie’s fur, dislodging the dirt and grime of the city streets. She could feel her eyes drooping, sleep threatening to take hold.  
  
An electronic ping interrupted the moment and Alex paused to glance down at her phone. She frowned, silencing the device and shoving it deep within in her pocket.  
  
Maggie meowed softly, pressing her head in Alex’s free hand.  
  
“It’s nothing, Goose,” reassured Alex, resuming her work on Maggie’s fur. “Just some girl troubles.”  
  
Maggie purred, trying to comfort Alex.  
  
“I guess you don’t have to deal with balancing your work-life and love-life, huh? Lucky cat,” murmured Alex as she picked Maggie up and dried her off with a new, clean towel.  
  
Maggie meowed. _If only you knew_.  
  
“It’s late now, Goose,” said Alex, rinsing out the tub. “And with no collar, I don’t know how we’ll get you back to your owner. We’ll check for a microchip tomorrow. But for now, let’s get you some food.”  
  
Alex made her way into the kitchen with Maggie close behind. Alex opened her fridge. It was practically barren; a whole shelf was dedicated to beer and a few condiments were stashed in the side shelves on the door. A single takeout box sat on its own sad, empty shelf. Maggie meowed in disapproval. _You’ve got to take better care of yourself, Danvers._  
  
Alex switched to the freezer and pulled out a chicken breast. “I suppose this will have to do for now, Goose.” She placed the chicken in the sink and let warm water run over it before disappearing into her bedroom and returning with a blanket. She folded it a few times and placed it by the couch. A clear indicator that it would be Maggie’s bed for the night.  
  
Maggie trotted over to the folded blanket and laid down. A quick (literal) cat nap wouldn’t hurt. She got back up and spun around a few times on the blanket, the padding feeling a little off. She laid back down. Still not right. Maggie stretched, her front paws kneading into the soft fabric.  
  
Oh, that felt good. Relaxing. Satisfying. Like running your hand through warm sand. Maggie kneaded the fabric with her paws for a few minutes before curling up, the tip of her tail resting by her nose. Sure, it wasn’t her memory foam mattress at home and she wasn’t tucked between her familiar sheets, with her head resting on her favorite pillow. But she was a cat. A cat who was dog tired.  
  
Maggie awoke a few minutes later to a small plate of freshly cooked chicken being placed in front of her. The smell instantly made her stomach rumble. She didn’t realize how starved she was until now. Maggie uncurled herself, stretching. A yawn escaped her mouth, teeth shining and tongue curling upwards. She looked up at Alex, who was already returning to the paperwork that littered the kitchen table and gave an appreciative chirp before scarfing up the chicken. Maggie should probably be more humiliated that she was eating off the ground, but as the chicken touched her tongue, she couldn’t care less.  
  
Maggie stopped at the last bite of chicken and looked up at Alex, who was muttering angrily at some piece of paper she was holding. Maggie meowed softly, but the DEO agent paid her no heed. She wondered if Alex had had dinner tonight herself or simply forgot, as per usual. The least she could do to say thank you to Alex for housing and feeding her was to make sure that Alex had eaten. Maggie grabbed the last bite of chicken and jumped up onto a chair, then onto the kitchen table, setting the chicken directly on the page in front of Alex with a commanding meow.  
  
“Hey!” protested Alex. “That paper was impor—Well, not really. Not sure why the director has to sign off on the purchase of new mats for the training gym.”  
  
_Director?_ Maggie wasn’t surprised. She knew it was only a matter of time before Alex rose to her rightful position in the DEO.  
  
Alex pushed the piece of chicken aside and continued reading the document in her hands, but Maggie wouldn’t back down that easily. She retrieved the chicken piece and dropped it back onto Alex’s paper pile. She tried to make the meow stern, commanding, imploring. (A difficult feat considering how damned cute she sounded.)  
  
“What, you don’t like it?” asked Alex, turning around to see the plate on the ground licked clean. “You want more?”  
  
Maggie meowed again. God, she wished she could speak. Maggie jumped down and pawed at the refrigerator door. Confused, Alex abandoned her paperwork and opened the fridge. Maggie jumped up, batting at the leftover carton of food. “I’m not sure cats can have Lo Mein noodles,” said Alex. Maggie jumped up again. At Maggie’s urging, Alex picked up the carton and showed it to her. Maggie sniffed, making certain that the food hadn’t gone bad.  
  
Alex was puzzled by the cat’s behavior. It snuffled at the box of noodles before pulling away. “See, Chinese takeout isn’t really fit for cats.” She made to put away the carton, but the cat stopped her. Instead using her head to push the carton of food towards Alex. Then, it sprung away and jumped on the counter, pawing at the microwave. “I’m not really hungry…” As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew it was a lie. Alex raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the cat sitting expectantly on her counter. “You sure you’re not an alien?” asked Alex. The cat simply mewed back. “Right, I suppose we’ll figure this out later,” said Alex, the beeps of the microwave button’s cutting through the quiet of the apartment.  
  
Maggie meowed. _I’ll tell you all about this tomorrow, Danvers._ But right now, Maggie was exhausted and needed to sleep.  
  
Alex had cleared away a spot amongst the pile of papers on the kitchen table and absently moved noodles from the carton and into her mouth. Maggie was pleased Alex was eating but couldn’t help but be stopped by the pervasive frown Alex wore as she scrolled through her phone. Maggie halted her walk back towards her blanket and stopped at the foot of Alex’s chair, letting out an inquisitive chirp. Alex ignored her, focused on scrolling through her phone.  
  
Maggie jumped onto the table, barely disturbing the multitude of papers. Man, she was getting good at these cat acrobatics.  
  
Alex moved her attention from her phone as the cat weaseled her head in between the table and her hand. “What is it now, Goose? You must’ve had a long day, aren’t you tired?”  
  
The cat rolled over, pushing herself further towards Alex and used its front paws to bat away the phone.  
  
Alex chuckled and pocketed her phone, returning her hand to the cat’s head. “You’re right.” The cat purred as Alex ran her hand across the length of its back. “It’s just that there’s this girl. We met at a bar and really hit it off, went out for drinks a couple of times. But work got hectic and I didn’t have time to call her back. Or, really I never made time to call her back.” The cat continued to listen, purring contentedly as Alex stroked its fur. “And I just keep looking back at all my old texts of all my failed dates and I… I don’t know…” At the halting of Alex’s pets, the cat opened its big, yellow eyes and stared directly up at her, blinking slowly.  
  
“Why am I telling you this?” scoffed Alex. It was two in the morning and she was eating leftover Chinese takeout while talking about her issues to the cat that mysteriously appeared at her doorstep. Alex sighed. She supposes there have been weirder nights.  
  
Alex got up to throw away the food carton and Maggie jumped down from the table, winding her way in between Alex’s legs and rubbing up against her shins. _It’s going to be ok._ Alex knelt down and patted Maggie’s head in a silent thank you. Maggie made her way over to her blanket of a bed, hoping she left Alex with a little more comfort than before.  
  
Maggie knew they weren’t a couple anymore and hadn’t been one for some time. She knew Alex would’ve moved on, just as Maggie did, and she’s happy Alex was putting herself out there. But that didn’t mean Maggie didn’t still care for Alex’s well-being. Their breakup was fairly mutual, both wishing they could change an integral part of themselves. Maggie wanted nothing more than to see what Alex did in having kids. To feel that pull towards being a mom that Alex had spoken of. It broke both of their hearts to have to say goodbye, but Maggie could never hate Alex for it. She could never fault Alex for living her truth and wanting to be happy, even if that meant Maggie couldn’t be there for it.  
  
Maggie curled up on the blanket, pushing the ghosts of the past away. She had come to terms with these emotions a long time ago. There was no point reopening old scars. Maggie closed her eyes and entered a fitful sleep, of which she only hoped Alex followed suit soon after.

* * *

 

Alex Danvers did eventually get to bed that night. Although “that night” may be a generous term, seeing as it was three in the morning when she finally crossed her last T and dotted her last I. Alex padded into her bedroom, pausing at the threshold to look at the strange cat that had appeared on her doorstep.  
  
Alex never had any time for pets. What with her busy work filled lifestyle. And perhaps this is how one became a pet owner, or more specifically a cat owner. It seemed as if these curious creatures always had an agenda entirely their own and that nothing in the world could stop them from that. So, it wasn’t a far stretch to believe that a cat would adopt itself into a house. But Alex wasn’t sure why this particular black beauty decided to choose her. Alex had always considered herself to be a dog person. Their intellect, steadfast loyalty, and loving personality were desirable traits in a life-long companion. But with how often Alex was away from home she knew she didn’t have time to give a special dog the time they deserved. (Besides, she already had a full-time job taking care of the puppy that is her sister.)  
  
The cat twitched in its sleep, its tail flicking across its delicately small nose. She supposed she could see the appeal. Alex couldn’t deny how cute it looked.  
  
If she couldn’t track down this cat’s true home, and if the cat found its forever home with her, then maybe, just maybe, she could be converted into a cat person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Maggie continues to find it incredibly difficult to communicate with Alex. Yah, know. On account of being a cat and all.


	3. The Cat’s Outta the Bag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex has only had a cat for a day and a half, but if anything happened to her, she would kill everyone in the room and then herself. Also, apostrophes are important.

Maggie awoke to the pleasant smell of coffee and a sunbeam filtering onto her face. She unfurled, back extending, tail following the delicate arch, paws stretching outwards, and claws unsheathing. Right. Paws, claws, tail.  
  
She was still a cat.  
  
Yesterday wasn’t a terrible dream, but a terrible reality.  
  
And despite the fact she wants nothing but to be back in her human body, she’s grateful that she didn’t transform in the night. Because if meeting her ex-fiancée she hadn’t seen in a year as a cat wasn’t weird enough, then having their first human encounter with Maggie seemingly appearing out of nowhere, naked on Alex’s living room floor, would be even worse.  
  
Maggie padded into the kitchen, following her nose and the delectable smell of coffee to find Alex, already dressed for the day.  
  
“Morning, Goose,” acknowledged Alex as she placed a slice of bread into the toaster.  
  
Maggie trilled in response, easily jumping onto the counter and sticking her face into Alex’s coffee. Oh, that smelled heavenly. She just wanted a small sip. And it’s not like she had the thumbs to pour herself a cup.  
  
“Hey!” exclaimed Alex, gently pushing Maggie’s head out of the coffee cup. “Cats can’t have caffeine.”  
  
Ok, Maggie takes back her previous claim. She’d rather have to explain suddenly waking up naked in Alex’s living room if that meant she could have a cup of damn coffee.  
  
Maggie looked up at Alex, knowing her eyes were doing that utterly irresistible cute thing. _Please._  
  
Alex smiled and patted Maggie’s head. “Sorry, Goose.”  
  
The toaster popped, and Alex made to grab the slice of bread, but Maggie darted in front.  
  
Maggie couldn’t have a cup of coffee, but that slight setback shouldn’t deter her from her main objective: Tell Alex that this cat is actually Maggie.  
  
And what was more Maggie than double toasted bread?  
  
Maggie batted away Alex’s hand, indulging in a bit more playfulness than necessary. (She understood why cats found those feather toys so appealing.) And resolutely pushed her paw down on the toaster lever.  
  
“Cut it out. I’m going to be late for work.”  
  
Maggie hissed at Alex when she pressed the cancel button and reclaimed her toast. Well that didn’t work. To be fair it had been a long while since Maggie had made toast around Alex.  
  
Maggie huffed, flicking her tail in annoyance.  
  
Alex finished her small breakfast quickly. She needed to get this cat to the vet before running to work. “C’mon, Goose. Let’s go,” she said motioning to the cat carrier Kara had brought over early this morning. And if it wasn’t for a Supergirl emergency, Alex is sure that Kara would still be fawning over how cute that cat looked. In a matter a fact, Kara was still sending Alex pictures of the cat and the cartoon dragon Toothless side by side along with a string of heart emojis.  
  
Maggie took one look at the cat carrier and lost her shit.  
  
And that was putting it lightly.  
  
There was no way in hell that Detective Maggie Sawyer, cat or not, would willingly go into a tiny cage to be hauled around like some feral beast.  
  
Maggie hissed at the cursed cat carrier, swiping a clawed paw at it.  
  
“It’s not that bad, Goose. We just have to get you to the vet and back.”  
  
Maggie growled again. A resolute no.  
  
Alex pushed Maggie’s rump towards the cat carrier in encouragement, triggering Maggie to fly backwards into an aerial cartwheel, forward somersault, ending in a panicked roundhouse.  
  
She sticks the landing! A perfect 10 out of 10!  
  
“Ok, I get it. No cat carrier.”  
  
And that’s how Maggie Sawyer, professional, very serious cat, found herself poking her adorable cat head out of a shopping bag tote slung around Alex’s shoulder.

* * *

 

“No microchip, but she’s in great health,” said the veterinarian, motioning towards Maggie, who was perched regally on the metal examination table. “Temperature reading aside.”  
  
Yeah, no way she was letting that vet anywhere near her with that thermometer. Now that was crossing a line she would never recover from.  
  
“We’ll keep our eyes peeled for anyone looking for a lost cat matching her description, but you may have to prepare for the possibility that you just adopted your very first cat,” said the vet.  
  
“About that,” started Alex. “What… what does she need?”  
  
The vet pulled out a brochure and handed it to Alex. “Here’s a list of things we recommend any first-time cat owner buys and a few pointers to adjusting your house and life around having a cat.”  
  
Alex skimmed the pamphlet, chewing her lip at the endless items she didn’t own and the endless bits of information she would have to follow up on. “Great, thanks.”  
  
And that’s how Alex Danvers, director of the DEO and all around badass, found herself carrying an absurd number of bags full of cat food, toys, and other cat necessities into her apartment. (Because two trips are for losers.) She had gone and bought everything on the list and then some. Because if anything, Alex was thorough. And if this cat chose her, she damn well was going to be the best cat owner the world had ever seen.

* * *

 

“Piece C goes here, and D here… Hold on. Where’s E? Didn’t I already use that for the base…” Alex was surrounded by a variety of instruction manuals and a currently deconstructed cat tower.  
  
Maggie, on the other hand, had become distracted with the very enticing, shiny, fake mouse toy. She couldn’t resist how the light caught its plush body and was currently on her back using all four paws to bat it skywards, marveling at the specks of light glinting through the air.  
  
“Shit,” Alex cursed as a piece of the tower fell off.  
  
Maggie twisted upright, Alex’s sudden movement cutting off her contented purr. Maggie let out a most definitely not adorable “mrrrbp?” and padded over to the struggling DEO agent. Maggie rubbed up against Alex’s back with a purr. _Relax, Danvers. You’re smarter than a cat tower._ Alex scratched Maggie behind her ear, something Maggie did not realize would be so damn enjoyable. The moment was cut short by the buzz of Alex’s phone. And in a minute flat, Alex was up and out of the door. “Sorry, Goose. Duty calls.”

* * *

 

Left to her own devices, Maggie took a moment to explore Alex’s apartment. Not much had changed since she had moved out. It was the same couch and bookshelf and stupid kitchen display of empty, colored mason jars that Alex had insisted on having “For the aesthetic™.” There was even that idiotic open concept bedroom that took quite the getting used to her first few nights spent at Alex’s. She would’ve thought that girl would’ve gotten a curtain by now, at least.  
  
A few of the wall decorations had disappeared and the lights were replaced with a harsher white than the warm glow she remembered. Although she’d not entirely sure it wasn’t just her fuzzy feelings surrounding those old memories that had tinted her comparisons.  
  
Maggie shook herself. It didn’t feel right to pry. Even if Alex still thought Maggie was just an ordinary cat, Maggie knew otherwise. And sure, she was curious on how the last year of Alex’s life had been. After all, it’s not like a super-secret agent makes it easy for one to Facebook stalk. But there were more pressing matters than investigating Alex’s apartment.  
  
Back to the main objective: How to get Alex to notice Maggie was a cat.  
  
Maggie sauntered over to the waste paper basket and managed to nudge it over with her head. Its contents spilled across the floor. Maggie grabbed a two-for-one pizza deal flyer in her mouth and flipped it over to expose a blank canvas. Perfect.  
  
Spotting a cup of writing utensils, Maggie jumped onto the counter and batted the cup of pens and pencils, momentarily appreciating the small pride flag that rested amongst them. First, Maggie tried a pencil. Carrying the writing instrument between her teeth, she brought it over to the piece of paper. She sat on her haunches and tried to grasp the pencil in between her front two paws, but it slipped out of her grasp. _Curse these adorable toe beans and non-existent thumbs._  
  
Maggie gripped the pencil in her mouth, the wood gaining indents from her needle-like teeth. She positioned her head parallel to the ground and attempted to start writing. An uncontrollable squiggle appeared on the page. Maggie chomped down on the pencil. A soft cracking sound emanated from it as the smooth texture of the paint gave way to a dull taste of wood. She concentrated, doing her best to meet the pencil lead to the paper. The page moved around on the ground, despite trying to hold it steady with her paws.  
  
The pencil refused to cooperate, and with the page constantly moving—not to mention with her head at that angle it was impossible to see where the pencil was marking—it was futile writing even one, discernible letter, let alone an entire word or sentence. Maggie applied more pressure, hoping it would ground the paper and lead enough to draw a proper line out. She was rewarded with a snap, and the pencil lead broke. _Damn._  
  
Maggie returned to the spilled puddle of writing utensils and picked up another pencil.  
  
After several failed attempts, the floor was littered with broken pencils and pages with unintelligible scribbles. Maggie growled in frustration. She jumped up and grabbed a pen this time. But yet again, Maggie curses those fuzzy paws of hers, because the cap stayed firmly in place. She gnawed on it in an attempt to loosen the steadfast hold the plastic cap had to the pen body, but perhaps due to her frustrations regarding the failed attempts with pencils, or the general ~~annoyance~~ anger at being transformed into a cat, she exerted too much power and the pen broke in her mouth, blue ink coating her tongue.  
  
Maggie jumped back in revulsion. Pawing desperately at her face and mouth to try and rid herself of the terrible taste of ink. Scurrying over to her blanket, Maggie used it to wipe off the ink, leaving long steaks of blue as she rubbed her tongue against the material.  
  
After calming down and taking a long drink of water, Maggie reassessed her plan. Pen and paper wouldn’t work, so perhaps something more modern would.  
  
Maggie leapt onto the couch, nosing Alex’s laptop. It was trickier getting a computer open as a cat than she thought. Frankly, that should be her catchphrase. (Or more aptly her _cat_ chphrase). Everything from her human life was more difficult to do as a cat, it seemed.  
  
After a long while, Maggie managed to pry open the laptop and was greeted with a glowing screen asking for a password. And of course, it was probably one of those extra long passwords with upwards of 12 characters, at least one uppercase letter, a number, and a special character.  
  
Was it too much to ask for one of her plans to work?  
  
She looked down at her paws. What’s the use? These stupid fuzzy feet were worthless.  
  
Maggie cast her eyes around the room, seeing the broken pencils, ink stains, and the scattered pages. Hold on. There were still ideas to try. She couldn’t give up this easily. Not unless she wanted to be a cat forever.  
  
(Just to be clear, Maggie absolutely, most definitely did _not_ want to be a cat forever.)

* * *

 

Maggie was halfway through arranging the scattered papers into her name when a sudden gust of air ruined all of her handiwork. _Who the—?_ hissed Maggie. The balcony door had opened suddenly, and Kara strode in with her signature sunny smile. _Curse you over the top, dramatic superhero entrances._  
  
Hey, Kitty!” greeted Kara. “Alex is going to be working late, so she sent me to feed you and—oh!” Kara stopped short, taking in the absolute mess Maggie had created. A concerned crinkle formed between the blonde’s eyebrows and her face displayed a startlingly accurate rendition of a surprised Pikachu.  
  
“Oh no… Bad kitty!” scolded Kara softly, hesitantly, as if raising her voice would break Maggie’s delicate cat feelings.  
  
(Okay, as gentle as the scolding was, Maggie did feel bad.) She padded up to Kara’s legs and wound her way in between them, rubbing against her shins with a purr. _Sorry_.  
  
Kara collapsed in a heap of “awws” as she knelt to pet Maggie. “Who can stay mad at this cute wittle face?”  Kara scratched Maggie under the chin, eliciting a genuine purr of contentment. “Ok, ok. Dinner and then cuddles…aaaand then maybe I’ll think about doing Alex a favor and cleaning up this mess.”  
  
The sound of food clinking into her (newly purchased) bowl was more pleasing to Maggie’s ears than she’d like to admit. With a happy trill she started enjoying her dinner as Kara rambled on about her day at CatCo. For looking as unappealing as dry kibble did, it wasn’t as bad as she thought it’d be. It was like eating dry cereal, but if that cereal were savory crackers crafted from the physical manifestation of the faint thought of steaks.  
  
Halfway through her meal, she got an idea. Maggie placed a paw into her bowl and hit the rim, tipping it over. Alex needed to know she was a cat and the next best thing was telling Kara she was a cat. She barely got to forming one line of the M in her name when Kara rushed over and with another surprised, yet gentle scolding. “Hey, if you’re done eating, you don’t have to make more of a mess.”  
  
Maggie mewled in displeasure as Kara picked her up and moved her away from her quest of exposing the truth.  
  
“Come on Ms. Messy Face. Now why did you destroy Alex’s apartment, huh? Feeling a little lonely? Bored?” cooed Kara. She placed Maggie back down and swept up the kibble, paper, and pencils in a literal flash.  
  
“Well, don’t worry. I’ve got the rest of the evening free. And, I thought, maybe…” Kara trailed off and produced a tiny, cat sized tuxedo, complete with a top hat and bow tie. _Where did she even get that?_  
  
Maggie backed up a few steps. There was no way she was letting Kara play dress up with her. She was a grown ass woman. She had a stable job as a detective. She could kill a man blindfolded, with one arm tied behind her back, and armed with only a stapler. No. Cat or not, there was absolutely no fucking way she was going to wear a tuxedo made for a cat.

* * *

 

Five very traumatic minutes later, Maggie Sawyer found herself wearing a tuxedo made for a cat.  
  
Note to self: never pick a fight with Supergirl. (Especially when she is the Girl of Steel and you are a cat.)  


Maggie froze. Her cat brain shutting down at feeling surrounded. She went ridged and just sort of… fell (plopped?) sideways, all four feet still stiffly pointed eastwards. What felt like an eternity went by before she gets a grip of her senses and rights herself.  
  
Kara can’t help but burst into laughter at the cat’s reaction to the clothes. “Okay, okay. Sorry Ms. Fuzzy Face, but you look adorable! Just a few quick photos, then I’ll take it off.”  
  
Oh God. No photos. Please for the love of everything that is good in this world. No photos. Maggie tried to run.  
  
Thirty seconds later, Kara posts far too many photos of a dapper, adorable Maggie in a bow tie.  
  
Right, there’s no fighting Supergirl.  
  
Kara finally, thankfully, takes off that cursed tuxedo. Maggie sulks in a corner and thinks about the pain of trying to convince Kara to delete those photos after she becomes human. It doesn’t matter even if she succeeds. The internet remembers everything.

* * *

 

The next few hours passed in a blur, all past grievances towards Kara for the tuxedo and interfering with her main objective disappeared the moment a laser pointer was produced. Sure, human Maggie understood that it was Kara waving around a cheap, battery-powered pointer and that the light produced wasn’t tangible. But that little red dot sparked something so incredibly irresistible to cat Maggie that she chased it with wild abandon. Finally, a worthy opponent! Our battle will be legendary!  
  
The door opened with a jingle of keys. “Hey Kara,” greeted Alex as she placed three boxes of pizza on the coffee table and hung up her jacket.  
  
_Hello!_ trilled Maggie in greeting.  
  
Oh no. _Alex_. She’d completely forgotten about the main objective. Stupid cat brain.  
  
_It’s me, Maggie_. _I’m a cat_ , she meowed uselessly, running up to Alex and pawing at her pant legs.  
  
“It looks like someone missed you,” said Kara in a sing-song voice.  
  
“Well, she did climb up four stories in a rainstorm just to say hi, so maybe we have a connection.”  
  
“She did make a mess of your apartment while you were away, though.”  
  
“Destroying property is common when moving into new environments. That, or she’s already developed a separation anxiety. Doubtful. She most likely needs time to adjust and feel safe in this house,” said Alex as if reading straight from a Wikipedia page. “That is, until we find her original owners,” she added quietly.  
  
“Look at you! You’re already a cat expert!” congratulated Kara. “I told you you’d do just fine as a cat mom.”  
  
Maggie interjected with a meow. She’s not keen on the idea of people thinking of her as Alex’s fur baby.  
  
Come to think of it, she also hates the word ‘fur baby.’  
  
Alex settled herself on the couch and the Danvers sisters were soon lost in a fight over whether to watch ‘Tangled’ or ‘John Wick.’ Maggie padded over to her blanket in the corner. She decided it was best not to intrude on Alex’s family time. It felt too much like she didn’t belong there, as if her presence ruined the sanctity of the moment.  
  
Kara won the argument and Maggie soon fell asleep to Kara’s enthusiastic rendition of “I’ve Got a Dream.”

* * *

 

The next morning, Maggie woke up to find that yup, she’s _still_ a godforsaken cat, a fact that emboldened her desire to fulfill her main objective. Not even the temptation of a laser pointer could stop her now.  
  
Alex was at the kitchen table, sipping her coffee (Oh how Maggie wished caffeine wasn’t fatal to cats) while perusing her emails.  
  
Maggie quite literally pounced on her opportunity, walking straight over to Alex’s (now unlocked!) laptop. _Fuzzy feet don’t fail me now!_ She walked across the keyboard, desperate to type the words “Cat is Maggie.”  
  
Alex pushed Maggie off with a startled sound. “Hey! These are very important emails! I can’t go sending the President of the United States an email that says, well, that.” Alex gestured to her screen where the message body showed a line of gibberish ( _xvdasd5ytr576rtfjh bnjnkASD-0I,S_ to be precise) and not at all the message either of them wanted.  
  
Maggie meowed in protest at being so rudely manhandled. In defiance, she promptly marched herself back over to Alex’s keyboard and laid down, covering its entirety. Alex moved her, but Maggie persisted, returning to her spot on the keyboard.  
  
Alex leaned back and shook her head. “Fine, Goose. You win.” She got up from the table and topped off her coffee, Maggie tracking her movements. “I should be angrier at you for impeding the work of a government official, but I’ll let it go because you’re cute.”  
  
Being called cute by her ex-fiancée that she hadn’t even seen in a year of which she’d worked so hard to get over, probably shouldn’t dredge up the feelings that they did. Plus, she was a cat. An adorable ball of fluff with velvet ears, comical yellow eyes, and a sleek tail. She had _toe beans,_ for pity’s sake. Of course, _that’s_ the cute Alex was referring to.  
  
“I guess you’re grumpy about not getting breakfast yet.”  
  
After scooping a measured portion of cat food into Maggie’s bowl, Alex returned to her emails, back turned.  
  
Perfect. This maybe the plan that finally works.  
  
Maggie carefully scooped out the food from her bowl with her paw, as to not make too much noise and alert Alex to her activities too soon. Using her paws and nose, she carefully arranged the kibble pieces.  
  
Alex turned around at the incessant meowing of the cat. “What is it n—?” She was cut off as her eyes drifted from the cat to the kibble spilled across the floor. No, not spilled. It was intentionally arranged into two very English words.  
  
IM MAGGIE  
  
Maggie looked down at her handiwork and back up to Alex’s shocked face. Oh! She had forgotten an apostrophe. Maggie kicked a couple of bits of kibble by her paw between the I and the M, leaving the masterpiece in front of her to read:  
  
I’M MAGGIE  
  
There. Much better.  
  
“Maggie?” Alex asked, incredulous. “As in Maggie Sawyer?” The cat meowed with a nod. One Alex almost wished she hallucinated. The DEO had prepared her for a variety of extra normal events, but this. Now _this_ felt more surprising than all those events combined.  
  
Alex pinched the bridge of her nose. She didn’t care if it was six in the morning. She needed a drink. But first, her ex-fiancée, who apparently was now a cat, needed her help.  
  
“Well then, Maggie let’s get you to the DEO.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Alex and Maggie continue to try and wrap their heads around the cat situation.


	4. The Cat in the Leather Jacket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maggie “I fits, I sits” Sawyer

“You really should have a seat belt on,” said Alex, glancing over to the cat perched in her passenger seat. No, it wasn’t just any cat, it was Maggie Sawyer.  
  
Maggie meowed.  
  
“Right…” Alex ran a hand through her hair. “I have so many questions. And not just about the whole cat transformation. About how you’ve been and…” Alex sighed. “But it’s not like we’ll get very far in that conversation.”  
  
Maggie remained silent, her eyes taking in Alex’s frame—spine ramrod straight and knuckles white with how hard they gripped the steering wheel. It didn’t take a detective to see how distressed Alex was at the news that Maggie Sawyer had been turned into a cat and was currently sitting shotgun.  
  
“And… and… how did you even get turned into a cat? The mass conversion alone is mind-boggling. Then there’s all your metabolic pathways and, I mean, I know that cats share 90 percent of DNA with us, but that doesn’t mean that much considering a fucking _banana_ shares more than 60 percent of DNA with us… So, focusing on the coding genes alone, there’s… then… But… Oh, and… and then, not to mention, you seem capable of understanding me and acting on that… And you can obviously write and spell words, so your neural pathways are the same to some degree, and I know cats have a similar overall brain structure, but again! How did you retain the mental capacity of a human? Your memories? And how much of a cat brain do you really have? Your color perception? Your—”  
  
Maggie meowed.  
  
“You’re right, I’m spiraling.” Alex took a deep breath. Her grip on the steering wheel relaxed slightly. “We’ll run the tests at the DEO and figure this out, I promise.”

* * *

 

“Fascinating. You’re saying this feline is actually a human? Or, was.”  
  
Maggie blinked up at the person Alex introduced as Brainy aka Brainiac-5 aka Querl Dox, a Coluan and (as he liked to make perfectly clear at all times) a 12th level intellect (whatever that meant).  
  
And so begun the next few hours of hell for Maggie. There was far too much poking and prodding and far too much handling in general. She’d bitten Brainy on the hand far too many times to count and wishes she could forget the taste of it all. There had been far too many lights and sonic blasts and far too many instruments she never even heard the name of before.  
  
Brainy was brandishing yet another far too sharp instrument when Alex knocked on the doorframe and saved Maggie from the next form of cruel and unusual torture. Maggie jumped down from the examination table, trying to forget about the many times she’d been at the DEO before all this mess. Back before when Alex and Maggie had promised the rest of their lives together. Maggie shook her head to clear the cobwebs of the past and padded up to Alex’s feet.  
  
“Hey Goo—” Alex cleared her throat, stopping the affectionate nickname. “Hi Maggie. Brainy,” she nodded.  
  
Maggie meowed.  
  
“Have you made any progress?”  
  
Brainy touched the tips of his fingers together in front of him, regarding the cat at Alex’s feet with clinical detachment. “None so far. I have not been able to determine the device used to transform Detective Sawyer. According to the tests, she is simply a normal cat. A purebred American Bombay cat, to be precise.”  
  
“There isn’t any chance this is just a sophisticated image inducer?”  
  
“None. Detective Sawyer has truly transformed into a cat.”  
  
“Shapeshifter DNA?”  
  
“Negative.”  
  
“But what about—”  
  
“Director Danvers, if I may interrupt.” Alex nodded for Brainy to continue. “The tests are inconclusive. According to the data from the tests so far, and the simulations I have run, there is a 48.31% chance that Detective Sawyer will never return to her original human form.”  
  
Maggie didn’t like the sound of that. She sat on her haunches and meowed up at Brainy. _There’s got to be something._  
  
“But you haven’t run all the tests yet,” insisted Alex. “Those odds could improve, right?”  
  
“Perhaps.” Brainy gestured to the malicious looking needle sitting by the table. “I have yet to take a biopsy sample.”  
  
Maggie hissed. She’d had quite enough needles for one day.  
  
Alex chewed her lip thoughtfully, trying to assess her and Maggie’s next options. “It seems as though Maggie has had enough testing for today. Could you take another look at the data you’ve gotten so far? Cross reference that with the confiscated devices the DEO has in storage?”  
  
“Very well, Director.”  
  
Alex nodded and turned her attention to Maggie, motioning for her to follow as she walked through the halls of the DEO. “I informed the NCPD of your… predicament. Or, well the best way I could considering the circumstances.”  
  
Maggie meowed.  
  
“Right, anyways, your precinct recovered your clothes and gear from your last known… um… human location. I thought you’d want your gun and badge back.” Alex rounded a corner, Maggie still on her heels. “But most definitely your jacket,” said Alex, picking up the banker box containing Maggie's effects.  
  
Maggie’s pupils dilated. Eyes fixed on the box in front of her. She knows Alex is still speaking, but something in her cat brain washed it all out and the only coherent thought was: _I fits. I sits._ Well, Maggie would argue her thoughts were more sophisticated. More _human_. And definitely a lot less cute sounding. Regardless, Maggie ignored Alex’s nervous ramblings and jumped headfirst into the box.  
  
Maggie dove around in her clothes, reveling in burrowing tiny tunnels in between the fabric. She knew she was going to regret the mass quantities of fur on her clothes when she turned back to a human (or, from Brainy’s bleak assessment _if_ she turned back). But it was all too much to resist. Maggie popped her head from the small pile of clothes, now wrapped in her familiar leather jacket. She meowed, turning her adorable, wide eyes up towards Alex, who, to her credit, was doing her best at remaining stoic.  
  
It was that moment that Supergirl decided to walk in.  
  
“Hey, Alex there’s an Agent Greer looking for you and—Oh!” Supergirl stopped short, taking in the sight before her: Maggie, as a cat, with a now comically large leather jacket draped over her and a detective’s badge in her mouth. (Maggie couldn’t resist a small nibble, it was just so shiny.) The excited squeak from Kara made Maggie’s ears lay flat, even Alex flinched. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just that. Oh, Rao. You’re _adorable._ ”  
  
Before Maggie could react, Kara’s phone was out in a flash and several photos were taken. Kara and her need to take photos was going to be the death of her. Maggie narrowed her eyes, dropped her badge, and jumped out of the box, doing the best to recompose herself. She sat down, lengthening her spine, chin in the air, tail wrapped gracefully around her paws. She most definitely would _not_ be called adorable by her ex-fiancée’s little sister.  
  
Maggie could forgive the noisy outburst, and maybe she could even forgive being called adorable, because Kara dressed as Supergirl fawning over the cat in front of her was almost too much to take in. Supergirl was just so _Kara_ at the moment that Maggie wondered how that girl ever kept her superhero identity a secret.  
  
“Kara, you remember Maggie,” introduced Alex.  
  
Maggie could see the mental war play out across Kara’s face. On one hand, Maggie was the women who had broken her sister’s heart, but on the other hand, Maggie was now a cute cat.  
  
“Alex, your text didn’t say that Maggie was literally the cat that you adopted.”  
  
“Yes it did. How much more straightforward could ‘Maggie is a cat’ be?”  
  
“I don’t know! I just thought you meant Maggie is a cat like how you call greedy people pigs or how people call each other dogs. I… I didn’t think you meant that _Maggie_ _is a cat_ as in this cat right here.”  
  
It’s odd feeling to witness the Danvers sisters banter once again. Maggie feels like it was yesterday when Alex’s gloved hand counted down from three for Kara’s arrival into the jail cell after Livewire’s escape. She shook herself back into the present and meowed, not appreciative that she was being talked about when she was right there in the room.  
  
Both sisters stopped talking and turned their attention to Maggie, who blinked up at them trying her best to convey her thoughts.  
  
“What are you going to do?” asked Kara.  
  
“Brainy is working on finding a way to turn Maggie back but in the meantime, she needs somewhere to stay. There’s always room at the DEO, but—”  
  
“Alex, stop. It’s obvious. Maggie stays with you. Plus, you just bought all of that cat stuff.”  
  
“She’s not a cat, though. She’s a human. Well, she… There’s a thirty-day return policy on most of the pet stuff and I think the receipt is somewhere in my house. And we could maybe set her up at her apartment. I’m sure we could rig a food timer and… and…” Alex scrubbed her face with a tired sigh. “I don’t know. This is all too crazy.”  
  
Maggie meowed. _Could they stop talking about her like she wasn’t there?_  
  
“Right, right. I should probably be asking you where you want to go,” said Alex.  
  
Maggie blinked silently up at Alex. _I would gladly tell you if I could talk._  
  
Alex shook herself. This communication issue was certainly going to take some getting used to. She padded down her pockets, searching for an assortment of items before placing them on the ground in front of Maggie. “Keys mean you want to stay at my place. The wallet means you want to stay at the DEO. And the phone means you want to try staying at your place.”  
  
“E.T. phone home,” chuckled Kara quietly to herself.  
  
Maggie looked at the three objects in front of her. It was an obvious choice, regardless of how awkward the situation was. As much as she wished she could be independent and live in her house she had to come to grips with the fact that she was cat. Then there was the DEO. Maggie knew Alex would make sure an agent was always around to take care of her and it would be close to the lab in case a break through on a cure happened. But the DEO was already a large, intimidating space as a human. She dreaded what roaming the long, dark hallways alone as a cat would feel like.  
  
Maggie had chosen Alex long before this decision was proposed. She had turned to Alex for help when she was first transformed into a cat. And despite their fallout, she trusted Alex. She trusted Alex to keep her safe and she trusted Alex to do everything in her power to help turn her back.  
  
Maggie walked over to the keys and touched them with her nose. (Or as Kara would describe, gave the keys a boop with a snoot.)  
  
Chez Danvers it is.

* * *

 

Alex hesitated, holding Maggie’s plate of food. It felt extremely wrong to place it on the ground. So, she placed it on the table across from her and watched as Maggie leapt from the floor, to the chair, and onto the table. Alex had ditched the cat kibble and consulted the vet once again about introducing Maggie to a more raw food diet. Knowing the cat was Maggie, Alex couldn’t in good conscience continue to make her eat kibble. And so, after a quick stop at the grocery store, Alex had more fresh food in her fridge than ever before.  
  
Maggie stopped tucking into the delicious salmon in front of her, noticing Alex had froze in place. She meowed and Alex seemed to come back into her senses, fork resuming its path to her own plate of salmon.  
  
Alex set down her fork with a louder than normal clank and Maggie looked up with an inquisitive chirp.  
  
“This is really fucking weird, right?”  
  
Maggie trilled in agreement.  
  
“Good. I just wanted to make sure I’m not being the weird one for thinking this is crazy.” Alex took a deep breath before continuing. “So I’ve been thinking. We need a system to communicate. One meow for yes. Two for no. Does that work?”  
  
Maggie meowed once.  
  
“Right. That’s settled.” A silence stretched between them, each concentrating on their dinner. “The last time we spoke was… well, you know. And to be honest, I don’t know how I should feel about all of this. Under more normal circumstances, I would’ve said we need space to figure this out, but you’ll be living with me and I’ll be taking you to the DEO with me so that Brainy can continue his work… Unless you want to stay here when I’m at the DEO?”  
  
Maggie meowed twice. _No.  
  
_ Alex nodded and continued on, “And I want to give you privacy while you’re here… and thank god the litter box is self-cleaning, because I’m so sorry that’s a thing you have to think of and… and I just… You’re a cat.”  
  
Maggie licked her plate clean and blinked up at Alex.  
  
“I was thinking of giving you your own room. Set up some sort of barrier around your bed. And…” Alex trailed off, glancing around her studio. “God, do you even like that silly cat tower?”  
  
Maggie cocked her head to the side. She really didn’t _want_ to like it. But her cat brain loved the feeling of clawing at the rope and perching up high and hiding in the dark, comfortable recesses of it all. She looked at Alex and resolutely meowed once. _Yes._  
  
Alex laughed. “Ok, the cat tower stays. That’s something else we should figure out. How much of this cat stuff do you actually want? Because I didn’t mean to insult or demean you when I got this, I genuinely thought you were a real cat, and—”  
  
Maggie padded over to Alex and placed a gentle paw on her hand. Alex stopped talking and Maggie purred.  
  
“You’re right, I’m spiraling again.” Alex goes to pat Maggie’s head but stops. “Is… is this ok?”  
  
Maggie pauses. Alex is right. This whole situation is really fucking weird. It’s all sorts of Freaky Friday. Bizarre. Crazy. Odd. And all synonyms thereof. And Maggie knows she should be a bit more hesitant about living with Alex again, even if it was only because she was a cat. But she can’t deny how she misses the safety Alex had brought into her life. So she nods and meows once, letting Alex know it was ok. And as Alex’s fingers weave their way through her fur, she lets herself fall into a sense of stability, if only for a second, in her upside down world.  
  
Yeah, the situation was all kinds of weird. But she had Alex. And they would figure it out together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Did someone say domestic fluff? Because I did. Bring it on!


	5. Cat Hair, Keyboards, and Bonsais

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s so much fluff, Alex needs to buy a new vacuum cleaner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that when I say I will stick to a weekly update schedule, I am lying. (Good thing time is an illusion.) Welcome back from my much extended and unintended hiatus! Let's get back to the fluff!

Maggie Sawyer was a cat. This much she’d finally been able to process. And despite the never-ending multitude of tests and Alex’s gentle, daily encouragement that this would all be over soon, Maggie had lost much of her hope of being human again.  
  
So, Maggie was a cat.  
  
And Maggie was also living with the fact that she could quite possibly be a cat for the rest of her life. (Speaking of which, does she have a cat lifespan or a human lifespan?) Maggie shook herself from her thoughts and leaped down from her (admittedly comfortable) perch in her tower. Alex was currently locked in a video call with Brainy and barely acknowledged Maggie’s chirp of a hello.  
  
Maggie jumped onto the table and curled up next to the laptop exhaust fan, relishing in the heat. According to Brainy, there was a 50.72% chance Maggie would stay a cat.  
  
On the flip side, there’s a solid 49.28% chance that she’ll walk on two legs, drink scotch, and sign her own name with her own glorious opposable thumbs. But every fractional percent of that chance felt oh so far away.  
  
She closed her adorably large eyes and reassessed the marathons of thoughts in her mind. Right, so, there’s a 51% chance (if she rounds up) that she’ll forever be stuck in Alex’s apartment, living in that ridiculous cat tower, and going a little too crazy over salmon dinner nights. And sure, there’s that pervasive thought that she’d give everything to stop going absolutely nutty over a shiny new mouse toy.  
  
But if Maggie stopped and really thought about things (as she’d been doing for hours upon hours upon days), she had to admit her life as a cat wasn’t terrible. And she could contribute that sentiment to just how amazing Alex was. Alex was probably the only person on the planet who could’ve adjusted as quickly and gracefully as she had to the fact that their ex-fiancée was now cat. Alex gave more than 100% effort to make sure Maggie was comfortable and put far too many hours into trying to create a solution to the problem.  
  
Maggie breathed deeply as a pang of regret shot through her. It was a lie if Maggie said she didn’t miss Alex. If she didn’t miss how seen she felt with Alex, how safe and comfortable and loved she felt with Alex. And yes, it was a different kind of love now, after their history, but even in this fucked up situation Alex was still Alex. (And sometimes Maggie finds herself hating how wonderful Alex is. Because it just made this situation that much harder to navigate. God, why are emotions so damn difficult?)  
  
So yes. Maggie admits there’s a part of her that enjoys this odd domesticity. She can’t get enough of curling up on the couch and watching TV or chasing after some fake feathers that Alex had rigged to a drone. Yes, there’s something entirely _nice_ about being a kept cat. But Maggie can’t help but wonder how many of those thoughts were from her human brain and how many were from her cat brain. And then there’s that warring part of her that is 100% logical asking if there really is a difference between her human side and her cat side. She is, after all, a human turned into a freaking _cat_ , so what is the distinction? And does the distinction even matter?  
  
Maggie opened her eyes and flicked her tail. Life is complicated.  
  
(What an understatement.)

* * *

 

Maggie padded through the halls of the DEO, keeping to the walls and trying to stay out of the way of the agents going about their jobs. Normally, Maggie kept to the command center, more content to be around the heart of the action. Not to mention, it was where Alex and Kara spent most of their time and that the lab was only a few doors away. Alex had even set up a small basket lined with blankets and pillows in Maggie’s spot on top of one of the computer towers. (Maggie couldn’t help but be drawn to the intoxicating warmth it gave out.)  
  
But today, Maggie was restless. It had been three solid days of test after test that yielded no result or explanation on how or why Maggie had been turned into a cat. It had been three solid days of watching Alex and Brainy coop themselves away in the lab and three solid days of Maggie having to drag Alex out by her pant leg just so she’d get some rest and food.  
  
Maggie walked between the large and imposing walls of the DEO, passing by rooms padded floor to ceiling with mats housing sparring matches and other rooms filled floor to ceiling with computer monitors and agents hunched over keyboards. To say cat entertainment was sparse in the DEO would be an understatement. So, Maggie did all she could, filling her time napping in sunbeams and doing her best to be supportive in the lab, but there wasn’t much work for a cat to do. (Although shortly after Maggie’s regular visits to the DEO with Alex, Maggie was appointed “Chief Morale Officer” and given her own special security clearance along with a small badge she kept around her neck.)  
  
Maggie’s paws seemed to itch. Her whole body twitched with pent up energy. She was useless like this, as a cat. A twitch of dust caught her eye and Maggie bounded after it, unthinking, simply reveling in the feeling of her muscles working at hyper speed. Maggie pounced on the dust bunny, claws outstretched, tumbling into a fuzzy somersault as she captured her prey. She quickly released the ball of dust and pivoted on the spot, her whole body easily responding to the command of a tight 180. Maggie sprinted around the floor, weaving around the desks in unspecified laps. And just as fast as she started her running rampage, she stopped.  
  
Well, that only killed a minute of time. But she did feel much better.  
  
(Although, Maggie later discovered an agent videotaped her energetic outburst and posted it with the title “Office Kitty Zoomies.” After a thorough investigation of who posted the offending video, she marched up to the perpetrator and bit him squarely on the hand. Justice served.)  
  
Maggie composed herself with a flick of her tail and padded back into the lab where, as seemingly always, Alex was hunched over a microscope. Alex’s voice rang out in the empty lab. “I’ve run her genome through the program and it’s impossible to distinguish it from the samples from actual cats.”  
  
There was a long silence as the person on the other end of the call spoke to Alex through an earpiece.  
  
“We’ve performed those tests. Three times to be precise. The results remain the same. It’s as if there’s no quantitative proof that Maggie ever was a human—well aside from… you know, the already known factors.”  
  
Maggie bunted her head into Alex’s calf.  
  
Alex greeted Maggie with a smile and a silent nod. She turned her attention to the person on the other end of her phone call. “Sorry, but I’ve got to go. I’ll call you back later tomorrow. Please have a look at those files I sent you. Maybe I missed something.” A pause. “Yes. Thank you again.”  
  
Alex discarded her gloves and bent down to Maggie’s level. “That was Dr. Griffin. They’re an expert in genomics. I was hoping they would shed some light on your situation, but it seems they, like the entire scientific community, are at a loss.”  
  
Maggie placed her head into Alex’s outstretched hand, giving permission for a scratch under her chin.  
  
“I’m sorry. I wish I had better news.”  
  
Maggie sat down and locked eyes with Alex before blinking slowly, trying to convey the most abstract of complex feelings and thoughts in one look. _I trust you. I know you’re doing your best. I appreciate you._  
  
Alex seemed to understand. She broke Maggie’s eye contact and stood up. “There’s something I’m missing. I know it. I can fix this.”  
  
Maggie took Alex’s pant leg into her mouth and tugged firmly.  
  
“I can fix this,” murmured Alex in meek protest as she allowed Maggie to lead her away from the lab and back home. 

* * *

 

Perhaps a week later, Alex comes home with Maggie at her heels, curls up on the couch, and sighs. It’s not the usual tired sigh of a long day at work. It’s a frustrated and despondent sigh. And in a heartbeat, Maggie understands that this whole situation is finally overwhelming Alex. But because Alex is, well, _Alex_ , she does her best to hide it away and put on a brave face. But because Maggie is, well, _Maggie_ , she notices the slight lock in Alex’s jaw and the slight catch in Alex’s breathing.  
  
And Maggie understands that it had been a tough few weeks, with her barging back into Alex’s life as a cat and all. And Maggie understands that it was entirely unfair that she thrust her own misfortunes into Alex’s hand. And Maggie understands, from acute personal experience, that this situation had brought all sorts of messy emotions back from the depths they both thought they had shoved them. But despite the tumultuous events and feelings, Alex deserved to be happy. And if Maggie could only do that by giving small comforts, then she would.  
  
Maggie gave a truncated, quiet meow before moving her position from the opposite end of the couch to Alex’s shoulder. Maggie burrowed into the couch’s plush backing and tucked her head into the crook of Alex’s neck.  
  
Alex wordlessly leaned her head into Maggie, keeping her eyes fixed on the TV screen in front of them.  
  
Maggie blinked slowly, responding with a silent understanding of her own.  
  
Alex sighed. But this time is was content, relaxed.  
  
And so, the days passed: Alex the Human and Maggie the Cat sharing 700 square feet of apartment, four floors above the busy downtown streets of National City. 

* * *

 

To say Alex Danvers now loved cats would be an exaggeration. Living with Maggie had certainly shifted her staunch dog-centered ideals. Perhaps you could say that having her ex-fiancée-turned-cat living in her apartment has appealed to her emotionally curious nature and that she’s opening the door just a crack.  
  
But when Alex closes her eyes and lets herself dream about her future, there’s always a small little house with a yard big enough for a sweet, lovable dog. There’s a garage full of tools and a bench with the scattered components of her latest project. Attached to that, there’s a studio filled with books or plants or art supplies or whatever her future wife’s heart desired. And Alex can see waking up, curled up next to her wife in some ludicrously high thread-count sheets. And Alex can picture padding into the kitchen, still half asleep, and hearing the familiar jingle of metal on metal as their dog trots into the kitchen just as Alex starts a pot of coffee. And if Alex lets the dream continue, there’s a ping on her phone with a message reminding her of her daughter’s science fair presentation or band recital or soccer game. Sometimes, Alex can almost taste the dinosaur-shaped blueberry pancakes on a Sunday morning.  
  
Of course, that was just a pipe dream. She already messed up with the wife part. She doesn’t have the house part. She feels she’s miles away from the daughter part. Hell, she doesn’t even feel she’s got her life together enough for the dog part.  
  
And yes, Alex knows that someday owning a dog is viewed with rose-colored glasses. That the whole idea of it all is steeped in so many other desires that she doesn’t even begin to have the time to unpack it all. But one thing Alex can say for certain is that the sheer amount of god damn cat hair is a large factor into why a cat has not entered into her fantasy of a future.  
  
Because Alex didn’t think it was at all physically possible for a cat to contain so much fur. It seemed to stick to every square nanometer of her apartment and weave itself into the very fabric of every piece of clothing she owns. (It didn’t help that Maggie had taken to sleeping on her bed’s right-side pillow.) So, when Alex fishes yet another cat hair off her pizza, she wasted no time in getting in the car and driving to the nearest store.  
  
There, Alex found herself staring down the wall of vacuum cleaners. Sure, she could disassemble and reassemble her handgun in 20 seconds flat. And yeah, she’s pretty sure she could splice genes blindfolded. But Alex never felt so lost looking at the multiple pieces of colored plastic boasting 18V of lithium-ion battery, whisper-quiet technology, or whatever the heck ultra-cyclonic power was.  
  
Alex cautiously picked up a model that touted a two-tier cyclone collection system with 15 barrels arranged for increased airflow and effective dust collection. Its odd, bubbled orange body and clear, square holding container was attached to an extendable hose with bristles, making it look more like some small, foreign elephant frozen in crystal rather than a machine for cleaning one’s house. (Alex swears she’s seen alien technology that looked less intimidating.)  
  
“Can I help you?”  
  
Alex started and set down the box she was looking at. “Yes, actually,” said Alex, far quieter and more unsure than her usual bravado. She hated being out of her element and she hated even more that she was so thrown off guard by something as simple as a vacuum cleaner.  
  
The sales associate seemed to pick up on Alex’s trepidation. “Yeah, every company tries to make their technology sound cooler and more hip than it actually is. Most of these vacuums just suck.” The sales associate chuckled at his own joke. “And not all of them in a good way.”  
  
Alex smiled. “Well, you see, I recently… uh, got a cat and she—”  
  
“Say no more.” The associate picked up a box bordered in purple and handed it to Alex. “This bad boy works wonders on pet hair and that rubber brush at the end is perfect for cleaning it off of couches and shirts and well, basically everything that attracts car hair. Which, if your cat is anything like my two furry bastards, is literally everything in your house. It’s a bit pricey, but I own the generation before this one and it’s still going strong after years.” The associate disappeared down another aisle before reappearing with a handful of lint rollers. “I’d also suggest stashing these in your car, your work desk drawer, your bathroom drawer, your—well, actually just keep one everywhere and anywhere.”  
  
After a few minutes, a swipe of a credit card, and a “No thanks” to This-and-That rewards card, Alex loaded her brand-new vacuum cleaner into her car, already dreaming of lab coats that were truly white and not covered in a generous sprinkling of black cat hairs.  
  
To say Alex was pleased with the vacuum cleaner was an understatement. Maggie, on the other hand, was content to hide away in her cat tower and as far from the Evil Noise-Making Hell Monster as possible.

* * *

 

On what had become a usual day in the week of her new life, Maggie was greeted with a surprise upon arriving at the DEO with Alex. Within the lab, there was now a floor mat adorned with letters and short phrases, creating a keyboard that was hooked up to a monitor.  
  
Alex simply shrugged at Maggie’s curious chirp. “Thought you might want to communicate better than one meow for yes or two for no. I asked if Brainy could rig something up for you to use.”  
  
Maggie squinted her eyes and watched as Alex desperately tried not to fidget under her gaze. She’s positive Alex most definitely rigged the system herself, but she didn’t press the matter.  
  
“If you like it,” continued Alex,” I can set something similar up at the apartment.”  
  
Maggie tapped on one key experimentally, poking it with a fuzzy paw as if it was a strange cucumber. The corresponding letter immediately appeared on the monitor mounted above the mat. With a pleased meow, Maggie got to typing.  
  
The first message Maggie types is _Thank you_. The message takes time to construct, as the letters are spaced out far enough to type with precision despite her lack of fingers, but that also meant a fair bit of traveling around the mat to tap the correct squares.  
  
The second message Maggie types is: _Forgot to water bonsais._  
  
(Alex and Maggie make a stop at Maggie’s apartment on the way home from work. Which turned into another stop at Target for a set of shelves to house Maggie’s bonsai collection, now displayed proudly in Alex’s apartment right next to Maggie’s cat tower.)

* * *

 

And so, the days passed: Alex taking care to water the bonsais (under Maggie’s watchful eye) and Maggie always secure in the fact that she got to ride shotgun wherever Alex went.  
  
Alex installed a similar keyboard-mat set up in the apartment and synced it to her phone so Maggie can text her when needed.  
  
And so more days passes.

* * *

 

“You should prepare for the eventuality you will be a cat forever.”  
  
It’s the way Brainy says it. It’s the clinical detachment, as if stating the sky is blue or roses are red, that shook Maggie to her core. She blinked up at Brainy. She knew the odds weren’t in her favor that she’d be a human again. But she’d seen Alex and Kara and J’onn and the entire DEO work tirelessly against slimmer odds than this and come out victorious. She thought that despite her growing accustomed to cat life, it was all temporary. That despite the mountains of negative test results, she’d be human one day. It was a faint hope, but the weight of Brainy’s words seemed to shatter it completely.  
  
Maggie barely touched her dinner that night. She opted to stay in the apartment the next day. And the next. Maggie resigned herself to long naps and hiding under the bed when Kara came to visit.  
  
Alex was concerned. Maggie didn’t need sharp, feline vision to see the clear worry on Alex’s face whenever Maggie was around. Alex’s reassurances did little to alleviate the numb world Maggie existed in. And so, Alex could do little more than give Maggie space, with the promise that she was there whenever Maggie needed her.

* * *

 

Alex came home one day with a suspiciously large, high tech-looking box. Maggie blinked once at the metal contraption before closing her eyes again in an attempt to return to her nap. Alex launched into a meandering explanation in an attempt to normalize the conversation, as she had been doing for the past few days.  
  
“…and I’m the Director, so screw the protocols! I mean, I’m only just _borrowing_ it. No one will even notice it’s gone.”  
  
Maggie could care less. She was a cat, who should only be concerned with cat things. Like napping and eating and more napping. Maybe she could concern herself on the status of the local bird population if she was feeling particularly adventurous.  
  
Alex stopped talking and frowned as Maggie hid herself further in an alcove of her tower. “I…um…I’ll just be outside if you need me.”  
  
Maggie isn’t sure how many hours pass when Alex disturbs her again. After all, every hour is like the next when you’re a cat. Why keep track?  
  
At Alex’s gentle insistence, Maggie followed Alex to the balcony, where she first notices one thing: a cat door. Great. It’s official. She’s a full-blown house cat. Stuck living out her nine boring lives within these four boring walls.  
  
“I know this is hard. I can’t imagine how you feel.” Alex’s soft words shake Maggie from her dark thoughts. “So, I borrowed a sort of building bot to help construct some things for you. A door and your own set of stairs—built right into the side of the building, so you can come and go as you’d like. And your keyboard here is integrated into the apartment now. You can control the lights, heating, TV, all from there.”  
  
Maggie took a deep breath. God, she didn’t deserve how sweet Alex was being. Not only had Alex spent countless hours trying to reverse Maggie’s transformation, on top of her already demanding job as Director, but she had also spent her free time trying her best to make Maggie’s life better.  
  
Do cats cry? Maggie was about to find out.  
  
Alex knelt down and locked eyes with her. “You’re still Maggie Sawyer. You’re still human. And you deserve to feel that way.”  
  
Maggie slowly approached Alex, as if going too fast would create ripples that would shatter her world yet again. She carefully pressed her head to the back of Alex’s hand.  
  
A thank you. An unspoken trust. A silent understanding.  
  
Maybe this was forever. Maybe this was temporary. But she was Maggie Sawyer, god damn it, and she wasn’t going to run, because she knows she’s got people who care by her side. People like Alex. And if Alex was fighting, then she was there on the front lines too—Ride or die.

* * *

 

Maggie threw herself into her new life. She could read and write, and despite not being able to talk and do fieldwork, she could still help out the force. And so, Maggie insists on her own workspace at the DEO. Alex immediately obliges by modifying a shoe shelf to make a cat-sized desk where Maggie does what detective work she can.  
  
(Kara has a field day after the desk is made and Maggie loses yet another battle with Supergirl. Which is how a few hundred photos of Maggie’s stupidly adorable cat self in a Sherlock Holmes costume end up plastered all over the internet.)  
  
Despite her professionalism ruined by photos too cute to use on LinkedIn, Maggie adjusts to viewing case files with four paws and no thumbs. (She finds the print function on her keyboard-mat setup exceedingly useful and the DEO agents quickly get used to a small black cat jumping onto their desks with a typed note and a case file for them in its mouth.)

* * *

 

And so the nights passed: Alex, being pulled away from another long email string to another expert halfway across the world. Kara, coming over for movie nights and begging for Maggie to let her hold her. (Maggie begrudgingly allows it and it’s definitely not because Kara brings Maggie fresh tuna flown straight from the ocean.) And Maggie, curling up, wedged between Alex’s shoulder and the couch back as reruns of Grey’s Anatomy air, much to Alex’s annoyance. (Although Alex would never admit how much she actually enjoys the show).  
  
(And Maggie would never admit it, but she finds it oddly adorable at how worked up Alex gets at the “gross exaggeration of medicine” and how “ludicrously false” it all was.)  
  
(In fact, Maggie regularly liked to point out “That one looks like you” whenever Alex got particularly fussy.)  
  
And so the days and nights turned to weeks. And the time started to pass so easily that Maggie could almost forget how absolutely insane this situation was. That only a month ago she was turned into a cat. That only a month ago she showed up at Alex’s doorstep after a rough breakup and a year of zero interactions between them.  
  
Maggie stepped through the cat door onto the balcony and breathed in the warm summer air. The clink of ice cubes as Alex raised her drink to her lips cut through the hum of National City’s nightlife rising from the streets below. Alex glanced up, offering a small smile in greeting before returning to her book. Without looking, Alex extended a hand towards Maggie. Maggie accepted the invitation and bunted her head into Alex’s hand, an uninhibited purr emanating from her body as Alex scratched Maggie’s chin.  
  
And Maggie knew this situation should feel weird. Maggie knew that she should find it distressing she was still a cat with claws, paws, and a furry tail. She knew she shouldn’t feel so relaxed and at ease curled up on a chair next to her ex-fiancée. She knew the high chance she’d stay a cat forever should cause more anxiety. But right here, in this moment, Maggie was content with this as her new forever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: The road back to humanity is a bumpy one.


End file.
